The Fitter Master in the Courtyard: Surrounded by Dead Men

Xie Quancai moved to Yang Ping's side, his face contorted with bitterness: "Yang Ping, you have to help your master... I'm really at my wit's end with those six people. There's been no progress for over half a month, and I'm utterly humiliated."

Yang Ping wanted to laugh, but also felt helpless.

He knew his master would get anxious sooner or later, but he didn't expect him to lose his composure after only half a month.

Master, why did you have to compare yourself to someone who's got cheat codes? Isn't that just asking for trouble?

Thinking this to himself, Yang Ping paused for a moment before saying, "Don't worry, I'll go take a look in a bit."

"Teacher, their progress is quite remarkable; each of them has taken a small step forward."

After another month or two of rigorous training, I'll be able to reach the threshold of the Special Grade, and promotion won't be far off.

"But what about those under your command..."

Before Xie Quancai could finish speaking, Yang Ping interrupted him.

"Teacher, your attention shouldn't be focused solely on me."

Look around the workshop; none of the others have progressed as quickly as those you personally mentored.

"……Um."

Upon hearing this, a light suddenly flashed in Xie Quancai's eyes.

Upon closer examination, this is indeed the case.

Back when he was a level six fitter, his skills had never improved so rapidly; he even experienced several years of stagnation.

The gloom that had been weighing on his heart vanished instantly, and a smile returned to his lips.

"So, does that mean my teaching methods haven't gone astray?"

"It's more than just not going astray,"

Yang Ping was straightforward: "It's because the talent of your disciples is too rare to be measured by ordinary standards."

"Good lad, no matter how capable you are, you're still my apprentice!"

Xie Quancai smiled and retorted, but in his heart he completely agreed.

To have the skill of an eighth-level fitter in just three years—no, to be more precise, to have reached the threshold of eighth level in just over two months—such astonishing talent is beyond the reach of ordinary people. With his teachings complete and his mind at ease, he turned and left with satisfaction.

Yang Ping watched his master's light and quick departure, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

He then bent down again to continue polishing the oddly shaped parts in his hands.

His focused and tireless practice over the past few days has allowed him to steadily reach the mid-level of an eighth-grade fitter, and his success rate in processing these irregularly shaped parts has also increased to about 85%.

He believed that it wouldn't be long before he could reach the level of a higher-level professional and increase his success rate to over 90%.

The shadows shifted quietly, and before long it was noon.

Yang Ping walked with his fellow workers to the canteen and, as usual, lined up at the window where MCA was on duty.

Ma Hua became the head chef of the canteen, but he still stands behind the food serving window every day.

The large ladle in his hand would involuntarily sink a little every time it touched Yang Ping's lunchbox.

The line in front of the cafeteria window moved slowly.

Every now and then, people would step aside to make room for Yang Ping, but he would always wave them off.

Giving in once or twice is being polite, but doing it every day turns it into a debt.

Yang Ping dislikes being in debt, especially debts of gratitude.

I ate lunch with Gao Yue as usual.

The two square tables placed side by side resembled an isolated island, surrounded by emptiness, with no one approaching.

After the meal, Yang Ping said a brief goodbye to Gao Yue and walked out of the cafeteria alone.

The midday sun made the cement road appear white, and he squinted as he walked towards the first workshop.

"Master Yang!"

The shouts came from behind.

Yang Ping turned around and saw Guo Da Piezi jogging after her.

It's been a long time since anyone has proactively sought him out like this since the factory's announcement.

Guo Da Piezi is the first one.

"What's up?"

Yang Ping stopped in her tracks.

"Please don't call me that."

Guo Da Piezi rubbed his hands together, a smile plastered on his face. "Just call me Da Piezi."

He moved closer and looked around.

The factory area is empty and quiet during lunch break, with only cicadas chirping in the distant trees.

Guo Da Piezi quickly pulled a small square made of old newspaper from his pocket and shoved it into Yang Ping's hand.

The paper package felt heavy in my hand, and it was still warm from my body.

Yang Ping pinched the paper and estimated its weight in his mind—about half an ounce.

Based on the current gold price, it's roughly equivalent to a month's wages for an average worker.

"Take it back."

Yang Ping pushed the paper package back.

Guo Da Piezi withdrew his hand as if burned: "How can you take back what you've given away? Master Yang, I'm begging you to put in a word with Director Lü and transfer me to your technical improvement team."

The paper package was stuffed back in.

Yang Ping did not answer.

The bag of gold hung in mid-air, gleaming with a dull light in the sunlight.

Master Guo quickly took the money back, looked around, and said in a low voice, "Master Yang, you... I'll keep it for now."

Don't worry, I'll definitely remember this. If you ever need my help in the future, just let me know!

Yang Ping simply waved his hand, said nothing more, and turned to walk towards the workshop.

That stack of banknotes was nothing to him; accepting it would only cause trouble.

Besides, his mind is no longer here. It's only a matter of time before he's transferred to the R&D department. Why leave something to talk about before he leaves?

Guo Da Piezi has always had a loud voice; if word gets out, it will be hard to explain.

He left decisively, his figure quickly disappearing around the corner amidst the roar of machinery.

***

In the courtyard, by the water trough, Ma Xiaoling was squatting down washing several snow-white pears.

Several middle-aged women who were washing clothes and preparing vegetables nearby saw this and came over to chat.

"Xiaoling, these pears look so good, so juicy!"

"That's right, Xiaoling always has a good eye, she can't go wrong with the things she picks."

Ma Xiaoling beamed with joy, deftly slicing the pear into even wedges with her small knife. "My brother Yang Ping gave it to me; it's very sweet! Everyone should try some."

As she handed them out, she said, "I tried one yesterday; it was juicy, crisp, and sweet."

Several middle-aged women took the pear slices, and after biting into them, they found them indeed sweet and refreshing. They all smiled and thanked them.

The sound of rushing water and scattered laughter drifted in the bright afternoon sunlight.

Everyone's eyes lit up after tasting it, and they all expressed their gratitude.

These days, fruit is expensive, and everyone is struggling to make ends meet. Buying it even once in a while is considered a luxury.

Everyone was naturally overjoyed that Bai Xiaoling was willing to share.

When Jia Zhangshi, who was peeking out of the door, saw it, she moved closer and stared longingly at the last piece of white pear.

Bai Xiaoling, however, put the piece directly into her own mouth—even if there was one piece left, she absolutely did not want to give it to this old woman.

She had always disliked Jia Zhangshi's behavior; she thought it was better to feed the dogs the good stuff than to give it to her.

"Yo!"

Jia Zhangshi's face fell, and her voice suddenly became shrill, "Bai Xiaoling, everyone got a share, why am I the only one short?"

She spoke as if it were perfectly natural, as if she should have everything that others had.

Those nearby frowned slightly upon hearing this.

Giving is a courtesy, not giving is also within one's bounds; to come begging like this is really quite unseemly.

"He's so old, yet he's so shameless."

Bai Xiaoling glanced at her, her words utterly blunt, "Want some? Go buy it yourself."

Jia Zhangshi suddenly became famous.

She suppressed her temper and went to demand her money, only to be met with a cold shoulder and ridiculed to her face. She immediately jumped up and shouted, "You short-lived, worthless wretch! You're just like that Yang Ping who killed his parents! You'll be struck by lightning sooner or later!"

"You old hag, I'll tear your mouth off!"

Upon hearing her insults towards Yang Ping, Bai Xiaoling's anger flared up instantly, and she swung her arm and lunged at her.

"Ouch! **—Help!"

Jia Zhangshi screamed shrilly.

Jia Zhangshi's wailing shattered the tranquility of the courtyard.

She was always good at throwing tantrums and acting shamelessly, but her fighting skills were completely disorganized. She was no match for Ma Xiaoling's offensive and could only flee back into the house in a sorry state, covering her head and bolting the door shut.

Ma Xiaoling dusted off the corner of her clothes before leisurely strolling back to the backyard.

Inside the house, Madam Jia Zhang slumped onto a stool, her face bruised and battered, tears and snot streaming down her face as she sobbed, "You heartless shrew, you just wait... wait until my son Dongxu comes back, and see how he deals with you!"

***

As dusk settled, the courtyard gradually came alive.

Jia Dongxu dragged his weary steps into the house and immediately saw his mother's swollen and distorted face, as she sobbed and wiped away tears.

His heart tightened, and his brows immediately furrowed.

"Mom, what happened to your face?"

"What else could it be!"

When Madam Jia saw her son, she cried even harder, "It was Ma Xiaoling from the backyard, that heartless bastard... She beat me up like this for no reason! Dongxu, what sins has our Jia family committed that everyone can trample on us like this..."

Jia Dongxu's face darkened completely.

He was already furious about his mother being surrounded by people in the courtyard, and now a newly moved-in woman dared to act arrogantly towards the Jia family. He couldn't swallow this insult no matter what.

A surge of anger rushed to his head, and he turned and rushed to the backyard, standing directly in front of the Xu family's door, pounding his fists on the door with a loud bang: "Ma Xiaoling! You get out here!"

Xu Damao opened the door, frowning as he looked him over: "Jia Dongxu, what's wrong with you?"

"Get your wife out here! She beat my mother up like that; if she doesn't pay for her medical expenses today, this isn't over!"

Jia Dongxu's eyes were bloodshot, and he almost spat on the other person's face.

Xu Damao had just gotten off work and was still completely confused. Upon hearing this, he became angry: "What nonsense are you spouting? What did my Xiaoling do to you? Stop making baseless accusations!"

The commotion in the courtyard drew everyone's attention, and they gathered from behind the doors and windows, forming a semi-circle.

Footsteps clattered and whispers murmured, stirring up the previously stagnant air in the backyard.

When Ma Xiaoling pushed open the door and came out, her face was expressionless. Her gaze swept over the crowd and landed on Jia Dongxu. "Medical expenses?"

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear: "Don't even think about it."

"It was your mother who started the argument; she was foul-mouthed, so she can't blame others for hitting her."

There is absolutely no way you can get money out of her.

Several aunties who knew the background nodded and joined in the conversation.

"This matter was entirely Jia Zhangshi's fault; how could she possibly ask for money?"

"That's right. Xiaoling's intention in sharing the pears was good, and who she gave them to was a matter of personal favor."

That Jia Zhangshi is really something; she curses people when she doesn't get what she wants. Who wouldn't be angry in her shoes?

That makes sense.

With everyone contributing their thoughts, the whole story became clear.

The buzzing of discussion in the courtyard grew even louder.

Yan Fugui stepped out from the crowd and cleared his throat: "Dongxu, this time it's ** no.

It's a favor if someone is willing to give you their things, but it's also their right not to.

How can someone resort to insults after failing to get what they want through force?

"Teacher Yan is right!"

"Exactly!"

A chorus of agreement rose and fell.

Jia Dongxu's face darkened, as if covered in a layer of ashes. "I don't care about any of that!"

He raised his voice, his chest heaving, "She, Ma Xiaoling, hit someone, so it's her fault! If she doesn't pay the medical expenses today, don't blame me for being ruthless!"

He was determined to regain face today; he couldn't just stand by and watch the Jia family be suppressed like this.

"snort,"

Instead of backing down, Ma Xiaoling took half a step forward, her eyes piercing straight at her. "So, you're thinking of making a move?"

She's never afraid of fighting.

A wild girl who grew up in the countryside, she had been through a lot since childhood, and even the young boys in the village had to give her some leeway.

"Come on! Do you think I'm afraid of you?"

Jia Dongxu shouted, his neck stiff.

He had already intended to teach her a lesson, and now that the opportunity was presented to him, he naturally wouldn't let it slip by.

Yang Ping, who had just finished work at the alley entrance, ran into a crowd that was packed three or four deep.

He peeked through the crowd and saw Jia Dongxu's arm swinging high, about to hit Ma Xiaoling—he couldn't allow that.

During times of hardship, when they were struggling to make ends meet and food and firewood were scarce, Ma Xiaoling had taken good care of him. Now that she had witnessed this, she had no reason to stand idly by.

"Yang Ping, what business is it of yours?"

Jia Dongxu turned his head and spat, "You unlucky thing whose parents were killed, get out of here!"

These words were like a spark splashed into a hot oil pan.